


Shut Up and Drive

by empress_ofbloodshed



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27499801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empress_ofbloodshed/pseuds/empress_ofbloodshed
Summary: kinda (but not really?) goes along with Nestaq’s tiny cameo in Checkered Flags. Nesryn is a car mechanic and Sartaq is a racecar driver. hope you enjoy :)
Relationships: Nesryn Faliq/Sartaq
Kudos: 4





	Shut Up and Drive

Bearing a box of her father’s special delicacy straight out of the oven from the Faliq family bakery, Nesryn strode into the garage. Wheels squeaked as Borte scooted out from under the car she had been inspecting. Her hawk-like gaze zeroed in on the box in Nesryn’s hands.

“Gimme gimme,” she ordered, wiping her grimy palms on the dark blue sturdy fabric of her coveralls. With a light chuckle, Nesryn opened the box and let Borte have first pick of the _ul boov_ *.

The owner of Eridun Garage stepped from her office with a suspicious look on her face. “Borte!” she yelled, striding over to where they stood. Borte shoved the second half of her second dessert into her mouth, trying to hide the evidence. Hands on her hips, Houlun glared. “Are you eating on the job, again, granddaughter?”

Swallowing, Borte shook her head. “Nope.”

Nesryn bit back her giggle as Houlun’s eyes narrowed at the crumbs on her granddaughter’s coveralls.

“Liar. Nesryn, darling, please hand over the box.” Nesryn did as the older woman asked. “Alright come on out and get your _ul boov_ before Borte eats it all!” she told the other workers in the garage with a smile. They rushed over, thanking both Houlun and Nesryn before gathering in small groups of two to three to eat and chat.

Eridun Garage was a massive warehouse just outside the city limits where they worked on anything from sports cars to construction vehicles. Houlun owned and managed the whole operation. Borte was being groomed to take over the garage when her grandmother finally retired. Nesryn was the only one there who wasn’t related in some way to Borte or her grandmother; she was hired for her expertise on antique cars and because she was a friend of Borte’s.

Elbows deep under the hood of a Shelby 427 Cobra hours later, Nesryn heard her name being called and the sound of work boots pounding the concrete floor. Borte panted, nearly out of breath. “There’sーsomeone here fromーthe Khan family looking for car mechanics,” she finished in a rush. 

Nesryn knew of her friend’s history with the Khan boy. It wasn’t romantic, they were just childhood friends who grew up together in her grandmother’s garage. The Khan family were also celebrities of a sort. Hasar and Sartaq Khan both chose to work for themselves instead of at the family company, even if he raced cars at top speeds for a living and she got paid for yelling at people.

If one of them was here, at Eridun Garage, something had either gone horribly wrong or horribly right.

* * *

Sartaq leaned against the hood of his car, arms crossed. He had places to be.

His hearth-mother Houlun stepped from the gloomy interior of her garage, wiping her hands on a dirtied rag. As a child, Sartaq spent most of his time with her while his father worked, learning what made a car run properly. He was joined by her granddaughter, the two inseparable. But as they grew up, his natural skill for maneuvering at dangerously high speeds and his last name kept him apart from his hearth-family.

“My boy,” Houlun greeted him warmly, hugging him. She stepped back to observe him and how he had grown up, tweaking the small braid behind his ear. “Now, what brings you here? Don’t tell me business, it’s been years since you’ve properly visited.”

Ducking his head, Sartaq felt guilty. He really should have visited them sooner, but he didn’t have the time.

He was barreled into by a blue and black whirlwind, the air whooshing out of his lungs. Borte grinned ecstatically, punching his shoulder after she let go of him. In retaliation, Sartaq tugged on the end of one of her twin onyx braids. She glared, looking so much like her grandmother that he wanted to hide.

Distracted by the car behind him, Borte fawned over it and completely forgot about the woman standing next to her. Hands stuffed in the pockets of her coveralls, her short dark hair was tied back with a bandana to keep it out of her face as she worked. Even working in a garage and covered in a layer of grease and grime, she was beautiful. Eyeliner so sharp it looked like it could slice him into ribbons lined midnight-dark eyes.

Holding out his hand, Sartaq waited until she shook it. His smile faltered as she crossed her arms, a silent refusal.

“Sartaq Khan,” he said, offering her his name. Maybe the ice in her expression would thaw.

It didn’t. “I know who you are,” she replied. “What do you want?”

Houlun had returned inside and Borte was still fawning over his car. There was no one to save him from this woman’s icy indifference.

“One of my cars needs some repairs done on it. I need someone who works on antique cars to look at it.”

“How fortunate. That would be me.”

Gods save him.

“Excellent.” Sartaq pulled a business card and pen from his pocket, scribbling his personal number on the back. The woman took it, although reluctantly. “Please call me with what times you’re free. We can discuss money once you see the car. Am I permitted to know your name, now that I know you’ll be the one working on my car?”

“Nesryn Faliq,” she said, turning on her heel to head back into the shop.

* * *

Nesryn tried very hard not to be impressed when she pulled up to Sartaq Khan’s personal garage. A sleek black Porsche stretched across the driveway. Behind it was a handful of other cars, ranging from a brand new Ford Bronco to an old racing Ferrari.

In a simple black tee and jeans, Sartaq knocked against her passenger window. Today his hair was pulled back into a braid, although a few strands were loose in the front and framed his face.

Stepping out of her car, she met him halfway.

“Ms. Faliq,” he said softly, leading her to where the Ferrari was. “I’m afraid she’s been having some engine troubles. If you need, we can take her out for a spin but I’ll need to move the Porsche first.” He handed her a key, striding off.

Confused, Nesryn shook her head to clear the muddied thoughts and walked around the car. A 330 LM in the original Ferrari red. She was in beautiful condition for a car so old. Popping the hood, she took a look at the engine. Nesryn didn’t see anything glaringly obvious, but that’s probably why he wanted her to inspect it. If he could see what was wrong, he would’ve fixed it already.

The door opened with only a slight squeak and then she was sitting behind the wheel of a car she had only seen in photographs. Putting her hands on the wheel, she imagined shooting down long straightaways in this, being able to feel the power humming around her. Slipping the key into the ignition, she twisted her wrist and felt the motor roar to life before settling into a rumbling purr.

Praise the gods, that was a beautiful sound.

Sartaq knocked against the window and she startled, swearing. Because she actually had to roll this one down instead of just pressing a button, he waited to start speaking.

“I could come with you, but I imagine you would rather take her for a spin alone.” Nesryn nodded. He gave her directions on where to go, stepping back to let her drive away.

The directions he gave her led to a stretch of empty road, a straight-shot into the wavering lines of heat. Nesryn accelerated, listening to the motor as she shifted into a higher gear. The RPM shot past five, approaching six. Seven was pushing it. The engine whined, not in a good way; she down-shifted. Pulling back into his driveway, she let the engine idle before turning it off.

Sartaq offered her a chilled beer when she walked into the garage itself, guiding her inside to a simply decorated living room. Framed photographs of him with his family hung on the walls. Her boots clicked on the hardwood floor. Sinking into a plush chair, Nesryn admired the potted plants everywhere.

“So?” he wondered, sitting down across from her.

Nesryn explained to him what she thought was wrong with his car, going into detail on how she believed it could be fixed. It wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t impossible.

His first offer was far too high, she wouldn’t take that much money. But he insisted. They finally settled on a lower number that seemed far more reasonable for the amount of work she would be doing. Before she drove away, he handed her a spare key to his garage and told her she was free to work on the car whenever she had the time.

Their fingers brushed. It was nothing, yet a spark still ignited in her. There was no denying Sartaq Khan was attractive.

* * *

Some days Nesryn would be pulling in just as he was driving away. He wanted to stay but he knew he had to practice for his upcoming race.

One night he came back at almost two, seeing her car still parked in his driveway. The lights were on in the garage, music playing from a speaker. Nesryn was still working on the car, stripped down to her sports bra. The arms to her work coveralls were tied around her waist, sweat from the summer heat glistening on her bare skin.

“You’re still here?” he asked, not wanting to startle her. Nesryn looked up, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. A black streak followed. “It’s five to two, Nesryn.”

She swore, apologizing for staying so long.

Sartaq laughed. “No worries,” he reassured her. “Want pizza? I’m ordering one. I won’t be offended if you say no.”

Nesryn nodded, her stomach grumbling loudly. “Do you mind if I take a shower? I feel disgusting.”

Shaking his head, Sartaq took her order of pizza before telling where where the bathroom was. Then he went to his room to shower and change, ordering a pizza as he flopped on the bed. The doorbell rung half an hour later. Opening the door, he tipped the kid well.

Nesryn sniffed the air as she walked into the living room. She took two pieces and put them on a plate, curling up on the chair she sat in when she originally came. The white bathrobe she wore was a gift from one of his siblings, monogrammed with his name. He hated it, so it typically stayed in the guest bedroom. But gods, it looked good on her.

They ate in comfortable silence. Kadara made herself known, curling up on her bed in the corner. Typically, his dog chose to stay in his room. After eating, Nesryn went over to pet his Rottweiler.

“Be careful, she doesn’t like strー” he trailed off. Kadara played with Nesryn, bumping her head into the woman’s thigh.

An hour later, Kadara was pooped. And so was her human playmate. Nesryn’s eyes fluttered shut before she startled herself back awake. It lasted a few minutes before Sartaq told her to stay the night, she was in no condition to drive herself home. She told him she didn’t want to intrude, but she was asleep shortly after.

Lying in his own bed with Kadara snoring on his feet, Sartaq couldn’t stop thinking of Nesryn. While working on his car, she had gradually warmed up to him. He liked her, both as a friend and more. She was beautiful, even covered in grease or grime. And Kadara liked her, which said a lot. Kadara only liked Hasar and Borte. Anyone else was a no from her.

He wanted to tell Nesryn how he felt, but he didn’t know if she would take kindly to it. So he planned to invite her and Borte to his upcoming race. Then, he would tell her.

* * *

Standing next to Borte in the packed street, Nesryn had to shout to be heard. “I thought you said he raced legally!” she shouted in her friend’s ear.

Borte grinned. “Legal racing is boring!” she whooped, cheering on her hearth-brother.

Engines roared on the street before them. Cars shot off, a silver flash in the middle of the pack. Nesryn knew he was a world-class driver, that he hadn’t earned his nickname the Winged Prince for nothing. And yet fear still coiled in her stomach.

A massive screen across the street with the live feed from a drone followed the race. Tires skidded around corners. Some drivers didn’t slow down enough, crashing. Then she spotted him. His silver little car slowly crawled from the middle to the front of the pack. They were coming to the end of the straightaway and he was nose to nose with another car.

The crowd was quiet, waiting to see what happened. One of them had to let up soon unless they wanted to lose control on the turn. Soon that treacherous turn came into view. Sartaq nosed forward, taunting his opponent. He kept up his speed until the last second. His opponent did not, braking just before Sartaq in the effort to save himself and his car. She and Borte cheered loud.

They cheered even louder when he won.

Nesryn found herself running to congratulate Sartaq, a man she was still unsure of her feelings for. He lifted her into his arms, spinning her around before setting her down. Their eyes met and the world faded away into oblivion. Then Sartaq was dragged away as he was congratulated by other racers. His gaze stayed locked on hers until someone stepped in the way and shattered it.

* * *

“Borte, I meant legal racing,” Sartaq chastised his hearth-sister, swatting her upside the back of her head.

She waved a hand carelessly, nearly spilling her drink. “Ugh, that’s so boring though. If it ain’t dangerous, it ain’t fun.”

_“Borte.”_

“All right, you grouch.”

Hasar woke him up the next morning, driving him to the racetrack hours before the race was even set to begin. At least she brought fresh coffee and ul boov. She wisely kept her mouth shut, slinking off two hours later to go to work. As a personal trainer, boxing coach and combat teacher for the Royal Navy, Hasar spent her days shouting at the top of her lungs and beating the shit out of people.

Sartaq was like a lion in a cage. He paced back and forth, wearing a path in the concrete while one of the many track mechanics tinkered on his car. He should’ve been the one doing the checks, making sure everything was in order. But he was too jittery to hold a wrench without dropping it.

Today was the day.

It didn’t matter if he won or lost the race, he would tell Nesryn how he felt.

The mechanic arrived fifteen minutes before the rage began, a lanyard with special access hanging around her neck. Her arrival was a balm that soothed his panicked nerves.

Nesryn handed him a necklace, the worn leather cord soft against his skin. The endless knot was a symbol of good luck. “For luck today,” she murmured, refusing to take it back. “Give it back to me after the race.” Her smile was soft.

“I promise,” he rasped, voice rough.

Her lips were soft against his cheek rough with stubble. Standing on her toes, she whispered, “Fly, my prince.” Then she left with a quiet whisper of a smile, the garage all the quieter without her.

When the light flashed green on the track, Sartaq floored the gas. The engine protested but settled into a throaty purr that rumbled through him. His skin burned with the ghosting touch of her lips.

He wanted more.

He raced more recklessly than he ever had in his life, clipping corners and flying down the straightaway that led to the checkered flag. By the time he crossed the finish line, the crowds were ecstatic.

Sartaq pushed through the throngs of people trying to congratulate him or ask for an autograph, looking for one woman in particular. He found her with a wrench in hand, fixing some small part on the car freshly rolled in off the track.

“Nesryn,” he huffed, striding toward her. She turned, eyes widening as he cupped her face in his hands and backed her against the warm metal of his racecar. “Nesryn. Nesryn. Gods, you’re beautiful. I’ve been wanting to say that for weeks. Nesryn Faliq, you’ve captured my heart and I can’t get you out of my head. Can Iーdo you mind if I kー”

When she captured his lips with hers, he nearly died on the spot. She clung to the sturdy fabric of his racing suit, the clatter of metal on concrete deafeningly loud. His heart threatened to beat it’s way from the confines of his chest.

A light laugh. “You talk too much, Sartaq Khan,” she drawled. Then she kissed him again. It was impossible, but this time was far better than the last. Kissing Nesryn was a whole experience of its own, one he wanted to cling to for as long as possible.

“A-HA I KNEW IT!” Borte shouted, standing in the doorway. “Nesryn Faliq, you sly minx.” His hearth-sister shrieked and hid behind the closed door as Nesryn picked up the wrench she dropped and threw it in Borte’s direction. “Details, Ryn, details!”

Finally the door shut with an audible click. They both let loose a sigh of relief, then laughed. Sartaq kissed Nesryn again, smiling against her lips so hard his cheeks hurt and his teeth accidently knocked into hers. But it didn’t matter as Nesryn, formerly a mechanic with an icy attitude who wanted nothing to do with him, kissed him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Her kisses were his new high of choice. At seven thousand RPM, everything fell away until it was just a man and a motor and some metal surrounding the two. It was heaven, flying along asphalt at dangerously high speeds. But Nesryn’s lips on his? That was better than any racing high he had ever experienced in all his years racing legally and illegally.

**Author's Note:**

> *ul boov is a traditional Mongolian dessert -> a soft cake made with a flaky, golden exterior and filled with sweet cream (about the size of a cookie). I based their cultures off of Mongolian cultures/traditions and Tibetan Buddhism for the endless knot (a sign of luck)


End file.
